


Barricade Underground

by Quetzal1



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: (Rated teen and up for language), Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quetzal1/pseuds/Quetzal1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where do you go and what do you do when you're the last Decepticon on Earth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barricade Underground

Author's Note: There's a little more of this at the end so nothing is given away. Transformers belongs to Hasbro, Takara, and in this incarnation, I have no idea who else. Dreamworks maybe?

 

It was one a.m. central standard time.  Somewhere on a four-lane highway in Oklahoma a tractor-trailer barreled along at a speed well over the posted limit.  The driver was anxious to get home after having been gone for a week and was looking forward to some down time.  He was wide-awake, juiced up on caffeine and singing along with the radio.  It was the dead of night in the middle of nowhere, he'd heard nothing about the highway patrol on the CB radio and his radar detectors were silent.  It came as a bit of a surprise when he looked over at the big rectangular mirror outside his door and saw a pair of headlights pop over the horizon far behind him.  The lights drew nearer with amazing rapidity and then were joined by more lights, these flashing red and blue.

 

"Damn," the truck driver swore.  This was all he needed.  His rig seemed to bellow in protest as he got on the brake and began to downshift.  He was just steering it onto the shoulder when the police car blasted past him, accelerating the whole while and quickly moving out of sight.  Huh.  Must be his lucky night.

Since it was dark he did not notice the police car was an unusual model, nor could he see that it was driverless.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Barricade was running for his life.  He had been on the road for hours and still did not have enough distance between himself and his enemies to satisfy his troubled mind.  It was unfathomable: they had lost.

 

xxx

 

He was delayed in reaching the battle at Mission City, and by the time he got there it was over.  He saw the rising smoke and heard the communications of both sides as well as that of the humans long before he had arrived.  It was eerily quiet when he rolled into the city.  Transforming to his robot mode allowed him to creep around more easily and avoid the worst of the debris.  The damage was devastating.  The closer to the city center he got, the worse it became.  And then he began to discover the wreckage of his comrades mixed in with the rubble from the shattered buildings.  The first dead ‘bot he found was Blackout.  Oh, this was very bad because that one never strayed too far from Megatron, as though he was the personal bodyguard for their leader.  Eventually he found Brawl and most of the others who had made it to the fight.  As he took in the widespread ruin, he heard voices and his sensors warned him of the close proximity of Autobots.  

 

Barricade slunk along behind more of the large buildings, none of which had gone unscathed, before carefully peeking around the corner of one near a big intersection.  The sight of Megatron laid out in the street, obviously dead, scared him almost to the point of panic, before his true nature (look out for number one) kicked in.  The Autobots were standing around with a group of those disgusting flesh creatures and blabbing about how honored they were.  Bah!  Did they ever shut up?  For a second or two he considered blasting Optimus Prime while he was out in the open and distracted, but decided against it.  If he tried that or anything else announcing his presence, the others would fall on him before he could even attempt an escape.

 

The mech carefully backed away as quietly as possible and began hunting a path that would get him to the open road headed as far away as he could get.  It took a while because he had to pick his way around all the destruction as well as the vehicles that were crashed or abandoned. East, that was the way he would go since it would put the most distance between himself and them.  

 

Upon reaching an unobstructed highway, Barricade transformed and lit out for somewhere, anywhere that he could be safe, fearing such a place was non-existent now.  He had gone a couple hundred miles before sending a general call to any remaining members of his faction.  He had not found Starscream, but then he hadn't been able to search the whole city, either.  He thought, or maybe it was just wishful thinking, that there was a faint, static garbled reply to his call, but it was brief and he heard (or imagined) it only once.  If there was no reply, that meant that he was the only living Decepticon on Earth and worse still, he was trapped here.

 

xxx

 

And now many hours later he had covered a long distance.  It seemed better to stay off the interstates for the time being.  This late at night he didn't have so many obstacles to watch out for.  He tore past the big truck that wisely decided to get out of his way when he switched on the light bar as a warning.  If it hadn't, he would have blasted it off the road, just to vent his anger.  Sooner or later, the Autobots would know that he was still out here, and they would hunt him down and destroy him.  That is, unless he found a good place to hide and lay very, very low.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

**Two days later.**

 

Ray Lane stood in the showroom of Briarton Ford Lincoln Mercury observing the lot.  There had been violent thunderstorms the night before and the power had come back on just an hour ago. The lightning must have been something else because the phones were screwed up along with the cameras for the security system.  The rain had rinsed away all the dust and every car outside was sparkling as the sun shined upon the fat droplets of water on their surfaces.  He sighed with annoyance.  Being the manager of this place was such a pain in the ass sometimes, particularly in dealing with the employees.  There was going to have to be another reminder to the salesmen about parking cars properly after test drives again.  That dark gray Mustang on the end was sitting in its spot crookedly.  Ray hated that.

 

So far, so good.  Barricade had formulated a plan and set it into motion.  He found the lot very early in the morning and it was as good a spot as any.  There really were storms in the night but all the damage was his doing.  He had knocked over a pole where several power lines converged and then transmitted a pulse that scrambled the phones and the various security cameras over a one mile area.  Once there was pitch blackness, he entered the lot and selected his victim.  The Decepticon knew that he would have to change his appearance.  He hated to give up the police car disguise, knowing that just a bunch of stickers made humans automatically trust him, but he also knew that the vast majority of police departments had vehicles that were nothing like a Saleen.  And when his enemies began to look for him, that is what they would be expecting.  He really liked the body style he had chosen though.  Sure he could be a Porsche or Ferrari, but it attracted too much attention.  People remembered seeing those.  On the other hand, the land was full of Mustangs.  He found a GT in a color the manufacturer dubbed alloy metallic, a dark gray like storm clouds, sitting at the dealership and so he had scanned it, right down to the VIN before lifting the vehicle and carrying it away.  No one saw later when what looked like the same car drove onto the lot and parked at the end of a row of others that were similar.

 

This would be a good place.  No one would search for him here and even if the Autobots knew what he looked like now, there were enough gray Mustang GTs out there to keep them chasing their tails for months.  But the crafty mech would take it even further.  Not only would he assume the form of a regular car, he would even go as far as to live its life (so to speak) from the beginning.  There would be nothing to arouse any suspicion amongst the humans.  He was a perfect match for the car he had destroyed and hidden.  He would sit here and eventually some human would take him home.  He would be even further obscured that way; a next to impossible to find hideout.  He could still monitor the various news sources for any signs of more Decepticons as well as send his own calls.  When they showed up, and he truly hoped they would, he would disappear again.  The human he was with would just have to find something else to haul their squashy self around with...well, if he let them live.  Suddenly springing his true identity upon a being that thought he was just a regular Earth vehicle was always great entertainment.

 

xxxxxxxx

 

The wait wasn't nearly so long as he thought it would be.  The mech had sat there for several days.  A few people had approached and peered through the windows and walked around him in circles.  Not many of them had taken a test drive, which was preferable.  Most humans seemed to regard this as an excuse to abuse vehicles.  If they managed to wrangle a drive without a salesman along, there was no end to the things they tried.  In just the short time he'd been there, Barricade had been subjected to this kind of treatment.  A grossly overweight fleshling wearing too much cologne had wedged his considerable heft into the seat and then proceeded to drive like he was auditioning for a position as a stuntman.  Once they were safely away from the dealership the man had stomped the accelerator and weaved in and out of traffic, nearly causing an accident.  The mech had finally had enough.  He would not allow this ridiculous creature to ruin his scheme by causing damage, the repair of which would reveal that he was not what he appeared to be.  A large intersection was coming up and a scan of the electronic controls in a box on one corner near it let him know that the light was about to go yellow.  A different scan showed him the position of other vehicles in the general vicinity.  His processor quickly worked a series of complex calculations that enabled him to have some fun.

 

 

The intersection was far enough away that they could easily stop except that for when the man pushed the brake pedal, it went to the floor with no resistance at all.  He began to work the pedal frantically as the light went from yellow to red.  He tried pulling the emergency brake but it wouldn't budge.  The traffic on the cross street began to move and that was when the Mustang accelerated suddenly, whipping nimbly around a big truck and another car before clearing the intersection.  Cars screeched to a halt and many horns angrily howled in protest.  A cop who happened along just then hit the siren and quickly chased the offender down.  The irony of the situation was amusing to the mech but the man in the driver's seat was irate.  He tried futilely to explain to the policeman what had happened but the younger man wasn't having any of it.  Right, you just happened to be taking a brand new, hopped up car for a test drive and the brakes fail and the accelerator sticks at the same time.  Uh huh.

The man got a ticket and angrily drove back to the car lot.  He had no other problems along the way.  Once he got there instead of just leaving he had to fling an insult.

 

"Defective piece of shit," he said as he got out.

 

Having nothing but contempt for humans hadn't stopped Barricade from studying them enough to know their languages including the insults and swears that were a part of them.  As the man heaved his bulk from the bucket seat, and prepared to angrily slam the door, a ring he was wearing caught on edge of it.  Seeing the opening, the door suddenly banged closed and the machine delighted in the yowl of pain from his temporary nemesis.  It wasn't a total success though.  He had only broken the tip of one finger, but he was trying to mangle the whole hand.  Oh well, perhaps next time.

 

There had been another man and a teenage girl whose parents were buying her a car as a graduation present.  After that, it was only lookers.  He found that more people came around when the place was closed.  It was understandable. He had heard the salesmen pressure people the same way so many times he was tempted to make them have a little accident the next time one of them raised his hood or crouched behind him.  While his plan was a good one, Barricade was not sure he had the patience to make it work.  He was carelessly hosed down and wiped off that morning (this being another thing he did not care for) and then the rest of the day had been uneventful.  It got hot sitting there on the asphalt for hours on end and the machine was grateful for the approach of evening.  Twilight drew down and the lights began to come on outside.  This was so boring!  Perhaps late tonight he would scramble the cameras so no one could see and then go for a ride.  All the employees had gone home and the lot was quiet.  He had plenty of time to consider recent events and their repercussions.  If Starscream had survived, and this would be his mindset until something indicated otherwise, he had probably gone back to Cybertron for reinforcements.  Just who that might be, Barricade didn't know.  He really wasn't thrilled at the prospect of Starscream as leader, but what could be done about it?  Nothing at all, and besides, it would be better than being stuck here alone the rest of his existence.  He didn't even have Frenzy anymore.  A few weeks ago, if someone had asked, he never would have thought he would miss the manic little pest...but he did.

 

This line of reasoning was counterproductive.  It was just as well he stop dwelling on probabilities, there was someone approaching him.  The mech was parked between two more GTs, one white, one black and to the right of the white one there were several more in various colors.  The human left a tired looking conveyance and walked right up to the Decepticon as though she knew him.

 

"Hel-lo you good lookin' thing," she said under her breath, circling around the car.

 

The human paused to read the sticker and then gently ran the fingertips of one hand over the front fender as she walked around to the nose of the car again.  Well this was different.  Barricade knew that humans would sometimes speak to inanimate objects such as he was pretending to be, but this touching was unusual.  Most times it was just clawing around after the catch for the hood or roughly trying the door handles.  Hmmm.  This could be the buyer he was waiting on.  Silently, he unlocked the driver's side door.  The woman backed away looking at him more then went around to the door again, and was surprised to find the car unlocked.

 

She lowered herself into the dark leather seat and rested her hands on the steering wheel a moment before absently playing with the controls for the radio and then tilting the wheel a little lower.  This was just what she had in mind.  Her old car was worn out and boring and she'd never liked it anyway, but this one absolutely screamed cool.

 

This was certainly better than his last passenger.  If he had to drag a human around, he would rather they were fairly lightweight.  This one was still looking around and touching stuff.  She appeared pleased.  After several minutes she got out and closed the door, normally and without slamming it, and then wandered around checking out the other available Mustangs... but she kept coming back to look at the gray one again and again.

It was nearly full dark when the human gently stroked the hood of the machine one last time before leaving.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The female who had looked at him Saturday evening came back on Monday morning for a test drive.  Upon returning she and the salesman disappeared inside the main building.  Half an hour later one of the other employees came out and drove the car around to be quickly washed again and the sticker removed from the window as well as a few other cosmetic things.  Another half hour after that, and Barricade was on his way to a new home/hideout.

 

The human guided the vehicle out of town and to a small house that was mostly apart from others, but not before stopping at an auto parts store.  Much to the mech's chagrin she emerged from the building with a bag containing a pair of fuzzy white dice, which she proceeded to hang from the rear view mirror.  It was a good thing there was no one he knew around to see that.

 

The neighborhood where he was hiding was quiet.  There were other homes nearby but not close enough to cause any privacy problems for the Decepticon if he felt like stretching his legs late some night.  Attached to the house was an old carport.  This was acceptable as well.  He could be out of the elements and still free to come and go as he liked, as long as no one was around.  He was parked and then left alone.

 

He sat there all day, periodically scanning the area and evaluating the data.  The woman kept coming to a door or window to look at him and the mech hoped she would stop doing that soon.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months.  They were for the most part uneventful, even painfully so.  Every morning Barricade conveyed the human to her place of employment where he would sit all day until evening.  Occasionally there would be some errand during lunch but not usually.  The commute was an excruciating affair for the Decepticon.  The interstate would often be clogged with vehicles slowing him to a crawling 30 miles an hour.  This aggravated the human as well.

 

"What?  What are you morons slowing down for, there's nothing there!"  She grumbled when traffic was backed up for miles and then suddenly cleared out with absolutely no visible reason for it. If it were up to the machine, he simply would have rammed them out of the way.

 

"Asshole.  Of course what you have to do is sooooo much more important,"  she said, when after waiting on the shoulder of the highway for miles as the line of cars slowly exited, someone would cut in ahead of her just as she got there.  Barricade would have exposed his rocket launcher/cannon and blown them to cinders.

 

Other things annoyed them.  Someone going slow in the fast lane, and cars that cut across three lanes of traffic at the last possible second to make an exit.  It was insanity.  There were other drivers that drifted into their lane nearly sideswiping the Mustang and people who would speed up to prevent a lane change if you were civilized enough to signal first.

 

 

When a the driver of a white BMW rode their bumper for over a mile before passing and then having the temerity to make an obscene gesture at them while she did it, Barricade decided that enough was enough.  He scanned the license plate and easily found what he wanted to know in about 40 seconds.  The car was registered to a Margaret Bonner 236 Riverview Terrace Circle.  Now he had a project to fill his time.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

No one was around or awake to see the car silently roll backward down the short driveway.  Once he was away from the house, Barricade started the engine but opted to leave the lights off until he got to a more populated street.  The panel that held an official license plate rolled over to reveal a square of metal that appeared to liquefy and then form a random set of numbers and letters.  He would not leave a trail.

 

It was easy to find Riverview Terrace Circle though it was a half hour away if one kept to the speed limit.  236 was a large brick structure with a beautifully landscaped yard.  Sitting outside the two car garage was the white BMW.  Perfect.  A brief pulse of energy scrambled any of the primitive security devices that might be around and then the Mustang unfolded to become a robot that carefully approached the house.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Margaret Bonner was late.  She hurriedly exited her house and then stopped, not quite able to make sense of what she saw.  In the spot where her car had sat was a pile of junk.  There were parts that were still recognizable but it looked like the white convertible had been pinched in at the center and then twisted until it broke in half.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The police were unable to explain the rash of .... Well, vandalism was the proper name, but to call it that was a gross understatement.  At least once a week there would be a report of a car destroyed and right on the owner's property.  And this wasn't the usual slashed tires or broken windows.  The vehicles would be completely demolished in bizarre ways. The vandals (and it certainly had to be a group of people to do that much damage) did not discriminate, destroying everything from BMWs and Mercedes to Hondas and Hyundais.  Stranger still was the fact that no one ever saw or heard anything.

 

Barricade was enjoying his new hobby.  He would keep a list of every offender they encountered on the commute to and from work for a week and then he would pick the worst one as judged by him and the human's reaction to whatever they had done.  Her calling someone a jerkoff in a quiet voice did not rate as highly as say, making a nasty gesture at them.  Sometimes the list got slightly backed up when there would be an unusually high number of incidents, but the mech patiently attended to everyone.

 

His home life was predictable, if dull.  The human treated him well, keeping him under the carport when she wasn't going anywhere and regularly checking fluid levels and such having no idea that various dipsticks were there purely as part of a disguise and didn't really measure anything she (or any other human) would be familiar with.  However, there was one thing in the beginning the mech detested but then came to enjoy quite a lot.

 

Every week, almost always on a Saturday afternoon the female would wash and then use a chamois to dry the car.  This was not a careless hosing down with water and a swipe with a dirty rag as it was at the dealership.  Here, there would be a lot of glistening white suds rubbed silkily over the surface of his paint with large sweeping motions and the drying process wasn't bad either.  But the thing he really liked was the wax.  At least once every month there would be an application of carnuba to the finish.  All the buffing done to remove it was to him like deep tissue massage to a person.  Of course when he rejoined his faction and they asked how he had hidden and survived he would leave out this part, but for now it was a guilty pleasure.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

There were many things to learn about such as holidays.  Barricade had discovered that he rather liked Halloween.  When he was particularly bored, his work for the evening complete and having nothing else to do, sometimes he would tap into the cable television feed and see what was on.  He found during the month of October, there were many more programs in the genre known as horror.  It was very enjoyable seeing humans killed in messy and painful ways.  He particularly liked films in which vehicles played a part in the killing.  Movies such as Christine, Trucks and The Car were personal favorites.  There was another aspect of the holiday he should have appreciated and might have if he weren't the victim.

 

In the weeks before Halloween, the mech had noticed some unusual things.  For instance, large fruits known as pumpkins were everywhere as some kind of decoration and had been for a while, but then they began appearing in the streets smashed to pieces.  In just one morning the human had guided him around three of them.  In some of the yards they passed, there were trees festooned with long fluttering pieces of paper.  What was that all about?  No one had perpetrated anything like this around his hideout, but then, it was off the main roads.  Furthermore he really wouldn't care.  Why should he?  He wasn't the one that had to clean it up.  His opinion changed drastically two nights later.

 

His human (not that he had any sense of fondness for her, it was merely his designation) had gone to recharge over an hour ago and the dwelling was dark.  The Decepticon was bored and thought he might like to run around for a little while.  The car rolled silently from beneath the overhang and then stopped abruptly.  Sensors indicated three humans approaching.  They were walking up the middle of the dirt track and making a feeble attempt to be quiet.  A muffled "CLONK" followed by poorly stifled laughter was clearly audible.  They had thrown something at the communiquŽ receptacle.  A fast scan indicated it was gel like organic matter from some sort of fowl.  His human purchased and consumed those regularly.  The package indicated they were called "eggs."  But why would they fling these at the receptacle?  Perhaps they didn't like them.

 

Had the boys left it at egging the mailbox, they would have been fine, but one of them was feeling brave, no doubt aided by the beers he had drank earlier.

 

"Chuck, man, what are you doing?"  One of the others whispered/shouted at him.

Barricade watched as the fleshling crept closer and closer to him, trying to be quiet but not before turning and hissing at his companions.  The other two shut up and Chuck got back down to business.  He got closer to the car and then let fly with more of the eggs.  When the missiles hit the rear window and back deck, it took every ounce of willpower the mech had not to slam the transmission into reverse and make all three of them resemble the pumpkins he had seen.  The sensation of egg dripping and running down the back window and from the rear spoiler onto the bumper was disgusting.  The three teens giggled like idiots and ran.  He noticed that instead of going back the way they came, they went further down the road.  Ha!  The lane dead ended not far from here and they would have to pass this way again. That diminutive insect designated Chuck was in for a very stern lesson.

 

xxxx

 

Halloween was the best thing ever if you asked Bill, Rob and Chuck.  They had roamed around a large area over the past couple of weeks playing pranks and engaging in vandalism that was specifically designed to piss people off without doing any real damage.  It was amazing how many eggs you could get for not much money.  Rob had suggested they let them sit around and get rotten first, but the other two didn't have the patience for that.  They were running out of places to go since they'd hit so many already.  On this particular night they had left Bill's old green Nova at the side of the road and walked the rest of the way so as to maintain stealth.  Of course after having split a couple of six packs that Chuck filched from his Dad's supply, they were about as stealthy as a dump trucks.

 

When they were on the way back to their car, they were too busy snickering over their successes and so not one of them noticed that the Mustang was gone.  The lane wound through a small wooded area and was sheltered in one spot by trees with branches that tangled together at the top, forming a leafy roof.  It was very hard to see, which made it a perfect spot for a couple of things.

 

"I think it's time to call it a night,"  Rob said.

 

"Yeah, I have a test to flunk tomorrow afternoon," Bill said, not making the connection that perhaps his night would have been better spent studying rather than perpetrating minor crimes.  He noticed that Chuck was not with them and looked back.  Their friend was stopped and standing at the side of the road.

 

"What're you doin'?"

 

"Hang on, man I gotta drain the lizard,"  came the reply.

 

"We're goin' back to the car.  Don't be fuckin' around all night."

 

"Ah, quit yer bitchin',"  Chuck said, and moved a step further off the road while fumbling with the button on his jeans.  Later, he would be unable to find an adequate description for what happened next.  He got the button unfastened and then suddenly it felt like he was struck and scooped up from behind and then was flying through the air so fast his neck snapped back allowing him to see nothing but branches overhead.  He abruptly crashed into the ground, which fortunately for him was covered with a thick carpet of fallen leaves.  Before he could get up, he was roughly jerked off the ground and encircled by something hard and sharp that began to clamp down on him tighter and tighter.  Finally, he reached a height that was just a bit too high to jump from even if he'd been able, and discovered he was looking into a set of glowing red eyes that were probably no more than fifteen feet away.

 

"What do you think you're doing?!"  A deep and horrible voice demanded.

Chuck was terrified.  He was unable to speak and could hardly breathe, managing only to get out a high, whining sound.  The darkness hid everything about his attacker except those eyes.

 

"I should rip you to pieces,"  Barricade said, very much meaning it.  The human seemed to have become almost boneless in his fear, hanging limply in the machine's grasp, but that wasn't all.  He had managed to wet himself, fortunately before the monster (that's what Chuck thought he was) had a good grasp on him because that might have been enough to earn death on the spot.  Sensors embedded below the surface of the claw enabled the mech to feel the organic's heart hammering insanely within its bony cage.  Barricade wondered idly if he could scare his victim enough to make the organ explode.  Or he could pull him apart instead.  It would be no more difficult for him to do so than it would for Chuck to pull the wings off a fly.  He could also just clamp down until the many bones inside splintered and broke like dry sticks.  It was fun to think about, but if he killed the disgusting thing, it would just mean a long period of the authorities hanging around and asking questions.  Not that they would suspect him, of course, but it might be a hindrance to his comings and goings at the very least.

 

He held the human close to his optics.  Later Chuck would swear he had felt the heat of the thing's breath and that it smelled like death, but this was his own imagination.

 

"Run away little human.  Run away and don't...EVER...come...back!"  The mech said, giving his captive a violent, teeth rattling shake after each word before tossing him roughly back onto the road.  The boy landed face down on the hard surface and slid.  He was scraped and bloody but nothing was broken.  The next day he would be black and blue and hardly able to walk.  For now though, there were no such problems.  He scrambled madly to his feet and ran as fast as he could.  Afterward he would be almost grateful he landed the way he did since the slide in the filth did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that he'd pissed himself.  Chuck would swear he'd been attacked by some kind of monster and promptly gave up his vandalism career in favor of more quiet evenings at home (especially after dark.)  His friends would not know exactly what to make of this, but they damn sure were not going to go looking for whatever it was.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The winter passed slowly.  The Decepticon didn't care for it (mostly because it was too cold for the human to continue the washing and waxing regimen and instead he was run through an automated wash) but fortunately it was short lived.  Spring came and soon things were back to the preferred routine.  It was boring, but there were worse ways he could be surviving.  The road rage revenge program had been curbed over the winter as well, but since then the humans had gotten lax in their vigilance again and he had a long list of visits to make.  It was shaping up to be a busy time.

 

He had not been with the human for an entire year yet but thus far was successful in his goal of staying hidden.  Monitoring all the news outlets gave no indication of any return by members of his faction nor did it show anything that suggested Autobot activity.  His hope of ever being among his own kind again was not extinguished but he wasn't so sure of it as before.  Yes, it would take time to mount an insurgency and return to Earth, but surely he would have heard from someone by now.  Maybe he had been wrong and Starscream was dead like the others and he was truly alone.  It was disturbing to consider a long lifetime in a place like this. And then another somehow worse thought occurred.  What if even the Autobots were gone from this forsaken rock?  What if he were not only the lone Decepticon but the only transformer as well?  It was too depressing to even consider.  Besides, there was no way his enemies would leave knowing he survived and roamed the planet unchecked.  Plus, if any Decepticon other than himself lived and was able to find others, there was equally no chance they would just give up.  Patience.  He must maintain his patience.

It was getting close to the time he planned to send his message.  The hour was moved every few days on the off chance the flesh bags might notice and discern a pattern and he also liked to send it from different spots.  Barricade had recently become aware of an area on a mountaintop about a half an hour away.  It would suit his purposes beautifully and he left as soon as he was certain his

human was deep in recharge.

 

During the day, it was a scenic overlook in a park.  At night it was deserted, the road leading up to it secured by a locked gate.  It was a small inconvenience for Barricade to stop, transform and step over it before resuming his alt mode.  He could crash through but that would only mean more and larger inconveniences.  The road beyond the gate was twisty and wound steadily upward, providing a minor challenge to the mech.  He loved this kind of thing.  The human was much too conservative in her guidance of the machine and it annoyed him.  In all the time she spent behind the wheel there was no way for her to know that the car was always within a fraction of a second of taking control of itself should self preservation demand he do so.

 

The road terminated in a large parking area ringed by benches and big coin operated binoculars that allowed one to take in the scenery in more detail.  Barricade transformed, a stark and sinister figure in the bright moonlight.  He stood there a moment, gazing up at the unfamiliar constellations.  The message was short and simple: "Universal distress call to Decepticon forces."  Nothing but static.  He sent it again and three more times, upping the power of the transmission as much as he dared but with no success.  Curse the Autobots, and curse this miserable planet!  He was about to rip one of the binoculars from the ground and destroy it in his frustration when something happened.  The static stopped and there was silence for a few seconds.  To anyone but a native of Cybertron the noise that followed the silence would have sounded like some bizarre low pitched cross between a dial up modem and a synthesizer.  What Barricade heard was:

 

"Identify yourself with numeric and standard designation, and sign."  It was the equivalent of being asked name, rank, serial number and password.  Barricade complied and demanded the same as well as the countersign.  The answer he received flooded his systems with relief.  It really was one of his own and even someone he knew slightly.  He recalled the respondent as a large mech who was friendly with Blackout, sharing his almost fanatical devotion to Megatron.  His designation was Incinerator.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The day dawned gray and gloomy.  During the night, a front had come in and later in the morning a gentle rainfall began that would end in flooding.  Danielle Silverio didn't like rainy days but the weather was the least of her problems.  She left her house only to discover an empty spot where her car should be.  She had saved and waited before finally purchasing the dark gray Mustang and now some son of a bitch had stolen it.  Though she was unaware at the time, the disappearance of her car would mark the end of a long, weird string of vandalisms and it would be the one break in the pattern.  Instead of on her property, the car was discovered two days later near a new construction site that not long ago had been scrubby woods. It was neatly chopped into three pieces and partially buried.  Nearby excavation and the rain had uncovered it.  The VIN number matched, proving it was definitely her car but the part that baffled police was that the vehicle looked as though it had been buried for almost a year.

 

The End.

 

Author's note continued: Incinerator is one of the toys from the movie line. His alt mode is a V22 Osprey. I always thought he looked like a good pal for Blackout. Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 


End file.
